Silently tucked into a delicate protection,
The flower prepares for its awakening,
Wrapped around itself, tight with color,
A safe womb, it grows.
The sun is its warming halo,
Its mother to nurture its growth,
The moon its predictable watcher,
As observing incandescent night light.
A blossom is awareness born from ignorance,
A gentle unfolding of truth.
A book of knowledge may wake the human soul,
But a blossom is abundance born free.
No one can dictate a blossom,
Nor dominate its life cycles,
Its moment of sweet release,
A power beyond human thought.
A blossom opens to the world
A timeless unveiling of heaven,
As color is born and set free.